AT THE SAME TIME
ISABELLA
On the surface, it felt like a normal consultation, but there's that subtle off vibe creeping through. Dr. Mercer pulled a thin folder closer, opening it with careful precision. Inside, blank forms waited like empty pages of a book. His pen clicked softly, the sound sharp in the quiet room.
"Before we go further." He said. "I need to understand you. Your health. Your history. The body remembers what we try to forget."
I smoothed my skirt, nerves prickling.
"All right."I said.
He nodded, eyes intent.
"How old are you?"He asked.
"Thirty two."I said.
"Good." His pen scratched across the page. "Still strong, still open. No major illnesses?"
"No."I said.
"No miscarriages?"He asked.
I froze, the question hitting like a punch.
"No." I whispered. "I've never been pregnant."
His gaze flicked up at me, sharp and searching, as though he could see the ache buried beneath that word never.
"Cycles regular?"He asked.
"Yes."I said.
"Medications?"He asked.
"No."I said.
"Family history? Fertility issues, genetic concerns, chronic illnesses?"He asked.
"Not that I know of." I shifted in my chair, suddenly self-conscious, as if each answer stripped another layer off me. "Why so many questions? Don't most clinics just… test everything?"
"Other clinics." He said softly. "Treat data. Numbers. Hormones. Charts. We treat the person. And the person is not only blood and bone. She is desire. History. Will."
I swallowed, throat tight.
"So… you need to know all of me?"I asked.
His smile didn't quite reach his eyes.
"Exactly. A woman's body is not a machine, Ms. Hart. It is a story. To give life, I must know yours."He said. He leaned forward, lowering his voice. "Tell me… why now? Why a child?"
The question cut deeper than any of the medical ones. My hands twisted in my lap.
"Because it's all I wanted. Not the money. Not the man. Just a baby. Mine. Something no one could take from me."I explained.
Silence fell between us. The hum in the walls pressed louder, or maybe it was just the pounding in my ears. Dr. Mercer's expression softened, but there was something unreadable behind his eyes.
"Good." He murmured. "That hunger… is exactly what makes you a candidate."
"Candidate?" I echoed.
"You'll understand in time." His pen clicked again. "For now, we'll run tests. Bloodwork. Scans. Nothing invasive. Yet."
That last word settled oddly in my chest, like a stone dropped in water. I nodded anyway, telling myself this was normal. This was what I came for. Still, I couldn't shake the feeling that Dr. Mercer hadn't just been recording my health. He'd been weighing my soul. The nurse led me down a hallway lined with frosted glass doors. Soft light spilled from each, casting elongated shadows on the floor. I kept my hands folded in front of me, feeling suddenly exposed despite the thick fabric of my blouse.
"Bloodwork first." She said, her tone polite, professional, but something in her smile didn't quite reach her eyes. "Dr. Mercer will review everything afterward."
The lab smelled faintly metallic, sharp under the sweetness of disinfectant. I sat in the chair, rolling up my sleeve. The nurse's touch was firm but careful, almost too deliberate. When the needle pierced my vein, I flinched, and she didn't flinch at all.
"Good. That's perfect. Very calm."She said.
Perfect. That word echoed in my mind. Everything here seemed to circle around perfection, from the spotless floors to the quiet hum of unseen machinery in the walls. Next came the ultrasound. The technician guided me to a small room with a wall of cherry blossom prints, soothing colors meant to distract, I guessed. She didn't speak much, just placed the cold gel on my stomach. I flinched again at the chill.
"Relax." She said softly. Her voice was pleasant but mechanical, like she had said it to hundreds of women today. "Everything looks healthy. We'll confirm with Dr. Mercer."
As I dressed, I noticed a faint clicking sound behind the wall, rhythmic, deliberate. Machines? Cameras? I didn't want to ask, but the subtle noise made the air feel alive, almost aware of me. By the time I returned to Dr. Mercer's office, my nerves were taut with anticipation. He was waiting, leaning slightly against his desk, a file open in front of him.
"Ms. Hart." He said, voice low, precise. "Everything looks promising. Excellent baseline. Strong, healthy body. No complications detected."
I exhaled, a trembling laugh escaping me.
"So… I have a chance?"I asked.
He studied me, gaze piercing.
"More than a chance. At Lifebloom, we do not gamble. We cultivate."He said.
The word choice sent a shiver down my spine, as if I wasn't just a patient, but a seed being prepared, watched, and guided.
"Next steps." He continued. "Will be tailored to you. Timing, stimulation, monitoring. Every procedure, every decision… calibrated. There is no one size fits all. There is only you."
I nodded, heart hammering, a strange mix of excitement and unease flooding me. And yet, despite the faint chill curling through me, I felt a spark of hope, wild and urgent. Finally, after years of heartbreak and failure, I was stepping into the possibility of what I had dreamed of: my own child, my own life. But as I left the office, the soft hum behind the walls and the weight of Dr. Mercer's gaze followed me. I couldn't tell if it was reassurance or something else entirely. Either way… there was no turning back.
AROUND THE SAME TIME
XAVIER
I stepped into the clinic's lobby, sleek glass and soft lighting reflecting off polished floors. Even in a place meant for care and quiet, I could smell the faint tang of antiseptic, the subtle undertone of fear that clung to people who weren't used to control. That's when I saw her.
She moved down the hallway, clutching her purse like a lifeline, her shoulders tense but proud. Even in her hesitation, there was a rhythm to her step, careful, deliberate, the kind of caution that came from knowing she'd been hurt before. Dr. Mercer approached, and I caught his words mid sentence.
"…everything looks promising. Excellent baseline. Strong, healthy body…"He said.
I raised an eyebrow, letting Mercer finish before I spoke.
"Who is that?" My voice was calm, measured, but underneath, there was the edge of curiosity that rarely let me ignore someone who caught my attention.
Mercer paused, tilting his head slightly, as if weighing how much to reveal.
"Her name is Isabella Hart. She's… new to town. Just arrived. Seeking treatment."He said.
I followed her through the glass doors with my eyes, noting the way she held herself, the faint tremor in her hand as she adjusted the strap of her purse. That nervous energy. That desperation. It made her memorable, wait...it's her. My Isabella."
"Any notable history?" I asked, crossing my arms, the weight of my presence folding into the quiet of Mercer's office.
"Nothing alarming." Mercer said. "Healthy, strong, fertile baseline. She's determined. Motivated. The kind of patient who takes action."
I nodded slowly. Determination. Motivation. Those were traits I respected. And in my world, the right traits didn't go unnoticed for long.
"Keep an eye on her." I said, voice low. "If she comes back for the procedure, I want to know."
Mercer inclined his head, a subtle acknowledgment of my command.
"Of course."He said.
I lingered for a moment longer, watching Isabella disappear into the distance. Something about her unsettled me, not the way she looked, or how she carried herself, but the way she moved with intent. Like she thought she could claim her future… before the world had a chance to decide. Little did she knew one visit to old town made her past and our past return back to her.